


Not Like the Others

by witheredvine



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Just Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witheredvine/pseuds/witheredvine
Summary: Cassian returns to base after a multi-week assignment. He and Jyn do some "catching up."(There is nothing here but smut. Pure, unadulterated, borderline id-fic smut).





	

Cassian was back on base.

Her whole body thrummed. His most recent assignment had taken him away for three weeks, and the longing she’d begun to feel was a knife in her gut. Most of the time, she was a pro at stuffing that sort of thing down. Learned how from Saw. You have a task, you make it your whole world. Focus on it, commit to it. And, well, the Alliance certainly gave her its share of tasks.

Didn’t stop her from being at the point of climbing up the walls. 

She wasn’t usually like this. Oh, she liked getting hers, and when it had been a long while, she’d go to a cantina and find someone to kriff. But she hadn’t had someone she could count on for a regular lay in...goodness, three or four years. And she hadn’t liked that one nearly as much.

He’d never welcomed her home, for one.

They fell into step beside one another in the corridor that led to his bunk -- private quarters, a perk of his rank. They were pretty sure that everyone knew (Leia Organa certainly did. She’d told Jyn to “knock it off with the mooning,” or whatever the word had been. Jyn had responded with, “you first.” Organa had not liked that. She had not liked it one bit), but they still preferred to be discreet. All business and professionalism in public, taking care not to touch, not to linger; not to spend too much time on non-work-related conversation.

Her skin flushed as he worked the lock on his door. She crossed her arms, tapped her foot, took a step, and then another, back and forth. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but it seemed to take forever.

And then they were inside.

And then the door was closed.

And then she was slammed up against it.

He kissed her hard, shoving his tongue as far into her mouth as he could. She wrapped her arms around his neck and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He reached down to her thighs, slid his hands around to her ass, hoisted her up. Her legs encircled his waist. Her shirt, pinned between her body and the door, rode up, and she felt cool durasteel against her skin.

His mouth traveled down to her chin. He nipped at her jaw. Licked and sucked on the flesh of her neck. She tilted her head back, banging it against the door. One of his hands came up and under her shirt, rough fingers roving along her side, over her ribs. He reached under the band of her bra, and his thumb traced the outline of her breast.

“Cassian.” Breathy, needy. Her stomach roiled with want for him. She ground her hips into him and felt his hardness, straining against his pants. He ground back. She whimpered, then yanked his head and forced his mouth back to hers, kissing him fiercely. One hand moved to his back, clawing at his shirt. His thumb found her nipple. Rolled it. The surge of arousal made her eyes roll back into her head. 

She reached down to the ends of her shirt and went to pull it over her head. It was awkward to do it as she was, balancing between his body and the door, but she managed, and he followed up by unclasping and tearing off her bra. He bent and kissed her clavicle, made his way down, to the dip between her breasts, cupped one and brought it to his mouth, swirling his tongue over her nipple, sucking on it. She was sure her fingernails were leaving marks on the back of his neck, and others would surely see and put two and two together, but at the moment, she didn’t give a damn.

She looked at him and decided that he was wearing too many clothes.

“Down.”

His eyes flicked up to hers. She gave him a shove and he dropped her to the floor. Her hands slid under the ends of his shirt, swept upward, taking the shirt with them, and he raised his arms, and she tugged it up and over, mussing his hair, revealing him to her: all lean muscle, pecs firm, stomach taut, abs palpable but not overt, hair accenting lines, gathering around his navel and trailing downward. She licked her lips and went for his belt. Her hands were shaking enough that she had to put up a fight to undo the buckle, but she pushed on through and got it off, somehow managed to pull apart the buttons of his pants and drag the fabric past his hips.

She huffed. He was still wearing his boots. They both were.

He smirked, and went to work on his laces. She did the same.

And then they were on each other again. He stepped out of his pants and his underwear, then went to work on hers, squeezing her ass as he pushed them over it. His hand climbed her thigh, moved between her legs. He ran a single finger up, pausing at her clit, ran it back down, dipping into her. She rocked against him.

"Jyn...” He massaged the front wall. “You’re so wet.”

“Of course I am.” Why the hell wouldn’t she be?

It had started a month after Scarif. They’d been finding excuses to spend time together, excuses to touch. Tiptoeing around what they both knew was going on. Jyn couldn’t speak for him, but on her end, she’d been deathly afraid of kriffing something up. It had been a long time since she’d cared whether someone stuck around or not, and boy, did she  _ not _ want to drive this one away. Crazy how that could be, considering, well...everything.

But one night, when the power had gone out again, and they were huddled together and sharing a draught of brandy to keep warm, something had broken in her. The feel of his body, the look of his smile -- a smile he seemed to reserve for her and her alone -- the sound of his voice… It was too big and too much, and when she first kissed him, it had been unthinking.

The sex, though. That had not been unthinking at all.

He spun her around and walked her back toward the door, until her palms and chest were up against it. The cold metal felt good on her overheated skin. He kissed her behind the ear, then on the back of her neck. Lips and tongue went down, down the length of her spine, down to the small of her back, down to her tailbone, making her writhe, making her press her forehead to the door. He kissed and bit her ass. Put one hand on her hip, slid the other to her stomach, pulled back, encouraging her to push herself out toward him. His mouth found her inner thigh and she shuddered in anticipation. The scruff on his jaw tickled her skin.

As he knelt, she felt the sides of his knees against her heels and ankles. She felt his ear on her thigh. She felt him tilt his head and very, very deliberately breathe on her. He trailed soft kisses along her folds, sucked on them, licked her, all round, narrowly missing the parts she wanted him to pay attention to, until finally dipping his tongue into her. Moving up, flattening it against her clit. She thought her knees would buckle. There was something so delicious about him doing this from behind, something unabashed and exposing and dirty. And she had always been a fan of dirty. She reached back and tangled her fingers in his hair. Would’ve liked to be able to get more leverage, hold his head in place, but she ground against his face as best she could, soft moans rising up and out of her.

Her arousal spiked. The center of her was on fire, and her skin was tingling. She was very, very close, but what she suddenly wanted more than orgasm was to be touching him, making  _ him _ moan. She turned around and leaned down. His eyebrows rose when she started yanking him up.

“On the bed,” she commanded, flicking her chin in its direction and giving him a shove. He gave  _ her _ another smirk. She loved how that expression looked on him, but she wanted to wipe it off his face. She wanted to see his mouth hanging open and his eyes rolling back into his head.

He walked backwards, slowly, teasingly. When she planted her hands on his chest and tried to get him to move faster, he covered them with his own and shifted his center of gravity, keeping his pace and causing her to stumble toward him. There was still space between them, but not much. Their legs bumped together and their breaths mixed. Jyn was shuddering, her chest was heaving. His chest hair brushed her nipples and a jolt sped through her.

He sat down on the end of the bunk, slid his hands up her arms, gripped her elbows, pulling her forward and toward him, until she was leaning over him, kissing him again, tasting herself on his lips, tangy and sweet, feeling inflamed by the thought, moaning over it. She kissed his neck and tongued his ear, bit his earlobe, then started to work her way down. Squeezing his flesh. Gripping his hips. Her teeth grazed the bottom of his ribcage, and his stomach dipped in response.

She took his cock in her hand and breathed over him like he’d done to her, tilted him forward and gave him a good, long lick up the underside of his shaft. He looked down at her with glossy eyes. She ran her tongue around the rim of his glans before wrapping her lips around it and sucking him. Loving the way his hips twitched. She stuck out her tongue, lowered her mouth, and angled her head so she could take all of him in. She cupped and fondled his balls, then ran a finger up to his ass, circled the hole. Bobbed her head. When he moaned at last, she grinned around him, and added extra suction.

It wasn’t long before he reached down and pulled her up and into his arms.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and her thighs settled about his waist. He kissed the spot where her jaw met her neck, then fell backwards, clutching her to him, drawing up his legs, using them to propel them back, until they were completely on the bed. She reached down and began to guide him into her, making sure his head stayed connected with the front wall. When she’d gotten him almost all of the way in, she leaned back.

He slid into the pocket at the top and anterior, and she keened.

She had hardly to move. Grind on him, thrust her pelvis a bit, palms on his chest, stomach, shoulders; his on her thighs, waist, stomach, breasts. She’d gotten him into the spot, the exact right spot, and pleasure was shooting through her and making her quake. One of his fingers curled around a loose strand of her hair.

“You are beautiful like this.”

She came with a wail. Snapped her jaw shut to cut it off. Cassian’s sheets bunched under her fingers. He bucked his hips up, and she matched his movements, and spilled over again, again, again. She clawed at his chest, leaned down, slid her hand behind the back of his neck and kissed him with barely slaked ardor. Every part of her body that was touched by his burned and called out for more, more, and her muscles went weak. She sagged against him. He kneaded her lower back.

“Up.”

Limbs shaking, she climbed off of him. He hoisted himself up and positioned himself behind her, then covered her back with his body, kissed her along her shoulders, touched her stomach.

Her thoughts were hazy, filled with him. Need. Desperate, pining need, bursting outward from her center and suffusing every part of her. It was always and had always been like this with him. Intense and incredible and overwhelming.

It had frightened her, the first time, almost as much as the thought of pushing him away had frightened her. No one had ever made her feel this way. If she was being honest, then she’d had objectively better sex before him, but it was a close call, and that time, her desire had been gone the very moment she finished. He always left her wanting, no matter how many times she reached orgasm (and he turned her on enough to always give her more than one), and always warm with a fondness that she wasn’t ready to put a name to, even though she already knew what it was.

These days, it just made her want to bite him and rake him and hold him down and kriff him blind, but having him grip her hips and slam into her was pretty decent, too, especially after she’d already gone and done the former.

He rubbed her clit. She bowed her head, pressing it into the pillow. She grasped the edge of the mattress and hung on, forcing herself back onto him. His breaths were coming in great, potent gasps, and his desire was bubbling up past his lips in the form of grunts and and shallow moans. She wanted him to come for her. She wanted to hear the rise in his tone. She wanted to feel him tremble and then collapse on top of her.

She raised herself up, changing the angle and pressing her back, once again, to his chest. His hand drifted up her side, and she grabbed it, twined her fingers with his. Craned her neck to look back at him. It was awkward to kiss in this way, but they managed, sloppy and ardent and full of all the things they never said.

“Jyn,” he gasped.

Her muscles contracted. She came again.  _ How many times was that? _

He lost his grace. She dropped back down. He hooked his hands around her thighs, growled in her ear, and sank his teeth into her shoulder. His legs were snug against hers, and they shuddered hard enough that the sensation ran all the way through her.

His body went half-limp, pushing her down into the mattress. She let it, flattening herself, dragging his hand up to curl under her. They stayed like that, for long moments.

After some time, he rolled off of her, and she tucked herself into his side. Together, they breathed, and deep down inside, she smoldered.

She propped herself up onto her elbow and looked down at him. Something had occurred to her.

“So,” she said, running a finger along his chest. “How did the mission go?”


End file.
